


Movement

by Szaira



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Memories, New Year's Eve, Not graphic but really subtle, Party, Two timelines, inspired by a song, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28465623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szaira/pseuds/Szaira
Summary: “Hwanwoong,” Youngjo clears his throat, “May I have this dance?”‧ ❈ ‧Youngjo has a soft spot for Hwanwoong, in a suit in particular. It always reminds him about that day.
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Yeo Hwanwoong
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Movement

**Author's Note:**

> Hi ♡  
> I hope you will like this full of softness New Year's Hwanjo. This work was inspired by Movement by Hozier, but I used to loop The Night We Met by Lord Huron during writing. These songs are true mood makers, and I highly recommend them ♡
> 
> The characters have nothing in common with real people, and this story is unchecked, so sorry if there are mistakes.
> 
> Stay healthy & all the best in 2021!

“Hwanwoong,” Youngjo clears his throat, “May I have this dance?”

The place he found at the last minute is not fancy. The varnish peeled off the wooden floor is evidence of the thousands of steps taken in dance by hundreds of people; paint peeling off the walls in some places reminds of the relentless passage of time. A general renovation and clever ideas of an interior designer would certainly give this room character and charm, which would make it possible to increase the price of subsequent events. The current fee for the New Year's Eve party for two was not high, and that’s why Youngjo is really delighted and sees no reason to complain.

His only worry is whether Hwanwoong will be happy with the circumstances under which they start the new year, and the only desire is for Hwanwoong to be happy and content, like always. Youngjo always wants nothing more than Hwanwoong's gladness because one could equate it with his own happiness. His smile warms his heart so as he’s staring at him in anticipation and finally sees the tips of his mouth wandering up, his own rise even higher at the same moment as his body tense, ready to get up from his chair.

Hwanwoong looks at him from over a glass of red wine. “I think you know the answer already.”

“Maybe I know,” Youngjo says, “But gentlemen always ask.”

Hwanwoong laughs, and the scarlet liquid waves in the glass as he sets it down on the table. Before he pushes the chair back, Youngjo is standing right next to him, and Hwanwoong eagerly reaches for his hand extended towards him.

“Didn't you say you need to catch your breath when we left the dance floor a moment ago?” asks Hwanwoong. Youngjo is leading him by the arm towards where they were dancing last time. Their bit of privacy is the far side of the dance floor, away from the eyes of people gathering strength to dance at the table.

“Perhaps,” Youngjo says as they stop at the appropriate location, “I'm not in that bad shape. And I missed you.”

“My seat is right next to you, Youngjo.”

“That’s right.” Youngjo raises Hwanwoog's hand and twines their fingers together. He slides his other hand along Hwanwoong’s waist, pulls him closer, and as he rests his hand on Youngjo’s shoulder, his hand slides down to Hwanwoong’s hips to take its place. “Do you know how hard it's for me to look at you then? I can sit sideways with my back to my neighbor on the right, of course,” Youngjo says, taking the first steps. The song is slow, and his movements are subtle. Each of them is reflected in the movements of Hwanwoong. “But we were supposed to keep appearances, and it wouldn't be elegant at all.”

Hwanwoong smirks. “We could've stayed at home. Then you might not take your eyes off me.”

“And would you dress like that?”

“Of course not-”

Youngjo leans over Hwanwoong's ear. “End of discussion.”

Hwanwoong wants to say something else, but the dance is lead by Youngjo, who smoothly directs Hwanwoong’s body in the direction he wants, moving him a short distance apart.

There’s a split second before he'll pull him back into his arms. A while to satisfy his eyesight. A moment when hours and days would never be enough to get used to this sight and Youngjo still tries to absorb as much as possible.

Hwanwoong is dressed in an ordinary suit, but cut perfectly and fits every plane of his body. The smooth black fabric contrasts with the white shirt and his light hair, and his black tie previously tied neatly and tightly, now slightly loosened adorns the collar. His elegant outfit doesn't stand out from the creations of people who are spending the last day of the year with them, but Youngjo has a soft spot for Hwanwoong and wants to look at him all the time. 

With a quick flick of his hand, he brings Hwanwoong closer to him again. He gives Youngjo a reproachful look and releases his hands to adjust the shirt that has slid off unruly due to the sudden change of position. Youngjo smiles apologetically and, dipping his hands under Hwanwoong’s suit jacket, helps him straighten it. He discreetly moves the fabric where it comes out, for a moment he feels the warmth of Hwanwoong's skin under his fingers, and then his shirt is in place, and everything looks as it should.

Youngjo has a soft spot for Hwanwoong, in a suit in particular. It always reminds him about that day.

‧ ❈ ‧

Hwanwoong stopped and Youngjo, determined to get to their destination, noticed it only a few steps later. He immediately stepped back and grabbed his hand.

“Hurry up!”

“We can't get wetter, Youngjo!” Hwanwoong laughed.

The setting sun was illuminating the street they were walking towards Youngjo's home, and the rain continued to fall from the sky. The downpour was truly spring; it came unexpectedly and quickly, and dark rain clouds appeared out of nowhere. Youngjo had been so excited about their upcoming date that it hadn't even occurred to him to check the weather forecast, and now he was standing in the middle of the road, drenched, begging Hwanwoong to go faster as he was no longer able to run. His home was within reach, and giving up now made no sense.

“We can't get any wetter, yeah,” Youngjo sighed, “But we can be dry faster.”

The sound of the rain was drowning out their words, and Hwanwoong didn't seem to care what Youngjo was saying. He was looking thoughtfully upwards, and the raindrops were flowing down his cheeks and then along his jawline. Ending its stream, they were dripping from his chin and soaking into the already soaked shirt and black suit. The orange glow was reflecting off his wet skin, and the droplets on his eyelashes were constantly replaced by new ones, setting in motion those that gave way, causing them to cruise across the curves of his face. He looked ethereal.

Youngjo squeezed his hand to look at him. “Please, Hwanwoong… Come on…”

Hwanwoong finally turned towards Youngjo, and the light reflected in his eyes, full of brown as his pupil narrowed to the size of a pin.

“I don't mind the rain,” he said.

“I know-”

“It's the best day of my life.”

“I know, but-” Youngjo fell silent. “Really?”

Hwanwoong looked towards the setting sun and smiled shyly.

“Really.”

The puddles full of rain were eagerly taking in the drops, enlarging their own dimensions and creating water mirrors in the street. Youngjo's heart was full of love for Hwanwoong, filled to the brim with the feeling that had been spreading in his chest stronger and deeper every day. At times like this, love was filling him so that it constricted his lungs and made him breathless.

Youngjo looked surprised. “Why today?”

“Because you’re here,” Hwanwoong said as if it were obvious, and Youngjo's question was out of place. “With me.”

“Not only today.”

“You’re right,” Hwanwoong hesitated, “This is the happiest year.”

Youngjo was standing in the middle of the road, holding Hwanwoong's hand, and wanted to set feeling free from his chest. He wanted to shout it. To breathe the moist spring air in fully.

“Hwanwoong, I…”

“We will catch a cold,” Hwanwoong stated with a laugh and pulled Youngjo as he moved forward. “Hurry up!”

‧ ❈ ‧

The music has been playing continuously for a long time, and the dance floor empties with each new song as tired people return to the table to rest and toast to love, health, and the next year. Above their heads hang silver streamers fastened to the chandeliers, glistening like origami stars made of sparkling paper and placed on the walls. When people vigorously stand up, lifting their glasses high and shouting another reason to take a sip of alcohol, helium-filled colored balloons attached to their chairs shake.

Among few pairs remaining on the dance floor, one of them is swaying slowly in the far corner, where the streamers don’t hang so profusely, and those that decorate the ceiling shimmer only slightly due to the smaller amount of light reaching them.

“I wish it had snowed,” Hwanwoong says as he raises his head, resting till then on Youngjo's shoulder.

Youngjo looks around, and nobody seems to watch them. He gives Hwanwoong a quick but tender kiss on his forehead.

“Don't complain.”

“I don’t!” Hwanwoong pouts, “But wouldn't you like snow to fall? We could make a snowman tomorrow.”

“It's good as it is.” Youngjo sets Hwanwoong in a slow spin. It ends, and their eyes meet. “It hasn't snowed, but at least it's not raining either.”

“I don’t mind the rain-”

“I know, baby,” Youngjo gives him one more kiss. “I know.”

Another song comes to an end, and the music turns calmer and quieter, suggesting a break. Youngjo releases one of Hwanwoong's hands but holds the other firmly as he leads him to their seats. He pushes Hwanwoong's chair back, making it easier for him to sit down.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asks as he takes his seat himself, “Something to eat?”

Hwanwoong shakes his head and swallows the wine he has taken into his mouth. “If I need anything, I will take it,” he says and takes another sip while Youngjo is watching him closely.

“You will tell me then.”

Hwanwoong turns to Youngjo and smiles broadly. “You never change, do you?”

‧ ❈ ‧

They didn't manage to hide under the roof when the weather deteriorated, and the warm spring air was replaced by the cold wind. It was piercing the bones, and their soaked clothes absorbed the chill like a sponge.

Then they finally got home. If Youngjo hadn't been so stressed, he might have noticed the puddles forming on the floor in the hallway and the mud that was spreading as he ran from one room to another. Nothing mattered as long as the drops were falling from the suit of his boyfriend, who was waiting in the corridor for further instructions, unskillfully trying to hide how he was shaking with the cold.

“I'll give you a towel,” Youngjo said on the way to the bathroom, stopped abruptly, and started towards the living room. “Or a blanket.”

“Youngjo, go easy…”

He ran to Hwanwoong with a fluffy blanket in his hand. “Get undressed.”

Hwanwoong was watching him uncertainly.

“I'll make you hot tea. Can it be fruity?” Youngjo put the blanket on the cupboard away from the wet surfaces and stretched his hands towards Hwanwoong, waiting for him to take off his suit jacket. “But you will take a warm shower first, okay?”

“Hey, I’m fine-”

Youngjo knelt and pulled one of the laces to untie his elegant shoes. “Hurry up, Hwanwoong, take off the-”

“Youngjo!”

Youngjo looked up at him from below, confused, and he stood up to look into his eyes.

“Yes?”

Hwanwoong hesitated. “I… I don't have a change of clothes here…”

“I'll give you fresh clothes.”

“Youngjo…” Hwanwoong's voice was hesitant and soft, “I will just wait for it to stop raining and go home.”

Youngjo pointed at him. “Like this?”

“Yeah,” Hwanwoong sighed, “But I'll be fine, I promise.”

“No way.”

They were staring at each other silently.

They had been a couple long enough that Youngjo knew he loved Hwanwoong immensely. He was sure that he would do anything for him. If only his own clothes weren't soaked, he would have given him them without hesitation while they were running wet in the rain. His love for Hwanwoong filled his whole heart, which beat depending on him, to the rhythm of his laughter or crying. A simple smile made it accelerate, and slight unease made his heart stop with fright as it was beating because of him and for him.

But they had been a couple briefly enough that there were still things to discover between them. Thoughts of it were coming to Youngjo's mind involuntarily, uninvited, and although he was trying to keep them away, the excitement was always remaining itching under his skin.

First times. Then the second and subsequent ones.

Youngjo loved Hwanwoong more than life and was ready to wait for every next move endlessly and longer, but limits to be crossed existed, keenly felt when before going to sleep he remembered how lightly it is to kiss Hwanwoong and how delicate his lips are. His soft hair, delicate cheeks, and long eyelashes. He knew the shape of Hwanwoong's mouth by heart, and he wanted to know by heart the whole of him.

He wanted to tell Hwanwoong that he loved him.

He wanted it all.

“Don't worry, okay?” Youngjo said, “I'll give you fresh clothes. They will be loose but dry and warm,” he raised his hand to Hwanwoong's face and brushed wet strands from his forehead, “And new underwear. Just don't worry.”

Hwanwoong looked scared. He blushed a little and looked down. “And how do I get home in them?”

Love, excitement, and fear were bursting Youngjo's chest. His heart was beating so fast that he wouldn't be surprised if it really stopped.

“You don't have to go home, baby,” Youngjo whispered. His mouth was dry, and he could hardly pronounce the words.

He ran a hand along Hwanwoong’s face and gently lifted his chin to look at him.

“Hwanwoong…” Youngjo breathed, “Would you stay here the night?”

‧ ❈ ‧

Youngjo runs his hand down Hwanwoong's thigh and squeezes it. “Hwanwoong! Don’t sleep.”

He blinks quickly and looks up at him in surprise.

“Me?”

Youngjo laughs, “Who else?”

“I’m not sleeping.”

“You had your eyes closed-”

“No, I didn’t-”

“Okay, okay,” Youngjo squeezes his thigh once more and rubs it, “But try to hold on till midnight.”

Hwanwoong sighs in surrender and stretches out on the wooden chair, nudging the green balloon assigned to his chair. “What time is it now?"

“Less than an hour left,” Youngjo says after looking at the watch, “And we will welcome the new year.”

Hwanwoong nods and places his hand on Youngjo's. “I can handle it.”

Youngjo twines their fingers together. In the vicinity of their places, there is no one but them as people have disappeared into the dance floor or in the depths of a modest building. People from the seats next to them turned out to be nice, eager to talk, and outgoing, which pleased Youngjo. Deciding to party without friends, he was afraid that if they didn't like the music and didn't want to dance, they would have a bad memory of that evening. Hwanwoong assured him that the most important thing was that they were just together, but Youngjo had one more desire as he wanted the smile he loved to not disappear from Hwanwoong's face.

And he's smiling, also now as he puts his other hand into their joined hands and strokes Youngjo's skin. His touch is soft and pleasant, and Youngjo wants to kiss him here and now.

“One more dance?” Hwanwoong says, and then yawns.

“You're reading in my mind,” Youngjo chuckles and stands up from his chair.

‧ ❈ ‧

“I feel guilty,” Youngjo said quietly.

They were sitting on the bed in Youngjo's bedroom, refreshed and in fresh clothes. Hwanwoong put on Youngjo's gray tee and sweatpants, and he looked so lovely in them that if Youngjo hadn't been angry with himself, his smile probably wouldn't have been coming off his face.

“What?” Hwanwoong asked. He put the mug of steaming tea on the desk. „Why?”

“I wanted this date to be perfect.”

“It was perfect. What are you talking about?”

Youngjo was playing with the hem of his tee. “I didn't check the weather forecast.”

“And?”

“I won't forgive myself if you get sick because of my stupidity.”

Hwanwoong sighed. “Stop worrying...”

“You deserve the best.”

“I have you-”

“Why can't I do one thing completely right?”

“Why can't you stop talking nonsense and kiss me?”

Hwanwoong asked a question, and when Youngjo became silent, he didn't wait for an answer.

The kiss was tender and as unreal as ever. Hwanwoong's lips caressed his lips, which returned tenderness with equal delicacy. Their hands were stroking their hair, and warm breaths were warming their skin. Everything was so innocent, so light, and so much theirs.

The unspoken words were pressing down on Youngjo’s chest, burning it from the inside, and making it difficult for him to breathe. He felt he was about to suffocate. Was it to die for love? He didn't know. He knew that he loved Hwanwoong so much that for him, he would give his life.

He moved away from Hwanwoong, and his lashes fluttered as he opened his previously closed eyes. Hwanwoong looked at Youngjo, and Youngjo saw something in his eyes that he hadn’t noticed before.

Hwanwoong ran a hand down his neck, and Youngjo tilted his head in anticipation. The same fingers glided over the same skin, but the touch was different. He didn't understand until Hwanwoong's hand glided down his chest, incessantly, until he slowly pulled up the fabric of his tee and his hand glide upward over his bare skin. Then Youngjo understood, scared and lost, lost in thoughts and feelings and reality and-

“I would…” Hwanwoong took a deep breath. “Would you…?”

His fingertips were stroking Youngjo’s chest. Hwanwoong for sure was feeling his heartbeat.

Youngjo swallowed. “Yes… I would…”

They were staring at each other silently.

There were love, excitement, and fear.

“Are you sure?” Youngjo asked finally.

“More than ever.”

Youngjo grasped the hem of his tee, and Hwanwoong's hand on his body trembled. He began to pull it up as he saw the hesitation on his face.

Was he ready for real?

Hwanwoong disappeared from his sight for a moment as he pulled the material over his head. When Youngjo looked at him again, there was no trace after hesitation.

It was something new for both of them, but they were in this together.

Youngjo let all the thoughts he had been pushing away flood his mind, and the desire spread along the nerves just under his skin, giving him goosebumps. Love filling his heart flowed with the flow of blood enriched with excitement nourishing the muscles ready for the movements they were about to learn.

Youngjo looked at Hwanwoong differently. He noticed too large tee and his pale skin with protruding collarbones through too large neckline. He realized that he would be able to follow these collarbones with gentle kisses, and then along his arm, and then give him tender kisses along his spine. These kisses were supposed to be different. Taste different. He was ready to open all his senses to _this_ Hwanwoong as he craved to hear his rapid breathing right next to his ear and feel that other touch on his whole body.

He grabbed Hwanwoong's hand and put it aside. Hwanwoong gave him a questioning look, watching Youngjo as he bent down to a nearby dresser and pulled out a small purple box.

“I thought that maybe someday…” Youngjo said, opening the lid. Inside were several packs of tissues, a pack of condoms, and an intimate gel. Suddenly he looked at Hwanwoong with fright. “I've never used it before,” he urged, “It's prepared for us, I mean for you and-”

“I believe you,” Hwanwoong interrupted. He took out one of the packs of tissues and then put it back inside. “I'd never suspect you of anything.”

Youngjo put the box aside, neared Hwanwoong, and held his hands in his. He brought them to his lips and gave them a slow kiss.

“I will be gentle,” Youngjo whispered, “Tell me about everything. I want to know how you feel.”

Hwanwoong nodded.

“I want you to feel happy.” Youngjo was kissing Hwanwoong's knuckles one by one. “Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” He squeezed Hwanwoong's hands. “I- I don't want to hurt you...”

Hwanwoong pressed his head against Youngjo's forehead.

“I trust you,” he said.

The fear was gone, and the room was full of excitement and love.

‧ ❈ ‧

Hwanwoong is moving in the dance easily because it's his element, and music is to his body like oxygen. Silver streamers and colorful balloons decorating the room disappear unnoticed when he moves on the dance floor in a suit emphasizing his every move. Youngjo is moved and speechless, but he doesn't have to say anything as Hwanwoong’s sublime movements are shared with him, and their bodies communicate without words.

Lost in thought, he shudders when there is fuss around them suddenly and pulls up the sleeve of his suit jacket.

“Five minutes.”

The music changes from dancing to that which was playing during breaks and more couples leave the building.

“Do you want to go outside?” Youngjo asks. “There's probably champagne in there.”

Hwanwoong cuddles up to him. “I don't like fireworks.”

“Me neither.” Youngjo strokes his head pressed against his chest. “Let’s just stay here.”

‧ ❈ ‧

Hwanwoong was moving to the rhythm of Youngjo's movements.

Under his every touch. At the sound of his voice.

He was the rite of movement.

And then they were lying side by side together, and the only movements left were their rising and falling chests.

Youngjo loved Hwanwoong when they were walking, cooking, or watching movies together. He loved him sitting together at a restaurant table in festive clothes on a stately date. He loved him standing in the downpour, unafraid of the rain as his eyes were shining in the light of the setting sun.

Soaked in the corridor. Wrapped in a blanket with a cup of hot tea.

Immersed in the sheets with his eyes closed, drops of sweat on his temples and rippling chest.

“Hwanwoong?”

He turned his head towards Youngjo, forcing himself to open his eyes. Energy had flown out of him with every trembling breath as his fingernails had been leaving fading pink tattoos on Youngjo's back and his lips more durable and red ones on his neck. He seemed exhausted.

Youngjo didn't know if this was the right moment, and if every moment was right, and whether the right moment even existed. He only knew that he couldn't swallow the words that had been waiting in his mouth for far too long. He took a breath, the last one when his lungs couldn't fully expand-

“I love you.”

And he breathed freely.

Hwanwoong's eyes widened, then squeezed his eyes shut. His fingers tightened on Youngjo's hand.

Youngjo held his breath but knew that no matter what Hwanwoong said, he would never regret these words. How could he regret them? Loving someone couldn't be wrong.

Hwanwoong was silent, and Youngjo squeezed his eyelids just as tight. His hands were shaking slightly.

Confession of love wasn't a weakness. It was a sign of courage and a symbol of responsibility.

They were lying silently, holding hands.

He would understand if Hwanwoong wasn't ready to confess his love. Love meant patience.

If he didn't feel the same…

Love meant understanding.

Youngjo opened his eyes, scared. Hwanwoong's eyes were still closed, but it didn't stop a few stray tears.

“Hwanwoong, I…”

Hwanwoong looked at him with glazed eyes.

“I love you too,” he whispered, “I just don't know what I did that I deserve your love...”

Youngjo's hand squeezed tighter on Hwanwoong's, and he let his own tears flow freely.

‧ ❈ ‧

The room is relatively quiet, and the sounds of excited people outside sound muffled as they begin to count down the remaining time to bid farewell best year in Youngjo's life.

_10…_

“I love you,” Hwanwoong says.

_8…_

“I love you too, baby. I love you so much.”

_4…_

They are alone on the dance floor and Youngjo leans in and kisses him.

_1…_

From outside are heard screams, cheers, and sounds of fireworks.

_Happy New Year!_

Hwanwoong breaks the kiss.

They're swaying in their embrace to soft background music when Hwanwoong looks Youngjo in the eye.

“I love you.”

Youngjo confuses for a second and laughs softly. “I know. And do you know that I love you?”

Hwanwoong rests his head on Youngjo’s shoulder. “Of course that I know it, I can feel it all the time,” he says, “It's just I wanted to say it to you first this year.”

Youngjo makes Hwanwoong move his head away from him and gives him a disappointed look.

“It's unfair!”

Hwanwoong smirks. “You can try next year!”

Youngjo pulls him closer again and plunges his nose into his hair, inhaling the scent of his own fruity shampoo Hwanwoong used to prepare for the party, breathing full breast, and filling his lungs with love. In a moment, he will let Hwanwoong go for a while, but when they get home and lie down to sleep, he will hug him tightly and won't let go until the winter sun is high in the sky. And maybe even then, he won't let go of him and will enjoy his warmth so pleasant on a winter morning.

Youngjo has no New Year's wishes.

Everything he needs is in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Last thought from me - I really like how many ways the title can be interpreted.  
> Thank you for reading!  
> I'm on Twitter as @_szaira :3


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